


hashtag pool cue 4 u

by saltysfeathers (saltyfeathers)



Series: hashtag relatable [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfeathers/pseuds/saltysfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where they play pool. </p>
<p>(alternatively titled, "cas' balls, dean's pocket" and "dean's balls, cas' pocket" but i just couldn't decide which way i wanted to go.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	hashtag pool cue 4 u

**Author's Note:**

> u can probably guess i was drunk.

dean and cas are drunk.

they’re in some nameless bar in a nameless town on an easy peasy salt-n-burn that left dean with adrenaline to kick, so here they are in the bar, drunk and at least attempting to play pool. he’s missed his shot at least three times in a row, each time swearing that the cue ball was totally right in front of him, except for the obvious fact that it was not, as evidenced by him attempting to sink the two ball in the corner pocket by thrusting his stick forward into empty air.

cas prods him in the ribs with the business end of his pool cue.

“okay, dean, it’s my turn now,” he snaps, swaying forward, trying to hip check dean out of the way. “You got-” he gestures with his beer bottle and some of it slops out, dribbling down his hand and wrist. dean watches it in fascination, thinking about how he’d like to lick it off, “-three turns, now. Me- my go.”

dean checks cas right back, languorously rolling his eyes back to meet cas’ consternated gaze.

“‘Me go’?” he echoes, smirking. he pushes off the pool table, swaggering around the corner and leaning his elbows on the side, dropping his chin into his palms. “ok. u go.”

cas tries to shake it off, dean watches him shake his head, furiously running his hand through is hair as if that’ll help him concentrate. the blue plaid he’s wearing goes up with his arm, and dean can feel himself leering at the strip of bare skin there for at least a full three seconds longer than he should. He leans forward, swiping cas’ beer bottle from where he laid it on the lip of the table, and takes a swig. cas watches him with narrowed eyes, and when dean shrugs innocently, Cas says, “I hope you know where… where that bottle’s been.” he licks his lips.

“oh yeah?” dean asks, trying to lean coolly against the table, but instead completely missing and practically falling over instead. “Yeah?” he repeats, eyes dropping to cas’ lips. “tell me.”

cas leans down, lining up his shot, and his body is lean and lithe and…. probably a lot of other nice words that begin with L. Long. Luscious (ew). Languid. his hair looks like a bird’s been nesting in it and he takes sinful sips of beer out of that damningly shaped beer bottle and just- yeah. dean swallows hard. cas’ jeans aren’t even that tight but they’re… well they’re enough. dean knows he’s not the only one checking out cas’ ass every time he bends over the table.

right before he makes the shot , Cas makes eye contact with Dean and it sizzles.  

“My butt,” he says solemnly.

things happen in very quick succession after that. dean probably snorts the most obnoxious laugh that’s ever had the gall to come out of his mouth, dropping his forehead onto the green of the table and laughing into it like a moron.  at almost exactly the same time, cas takes his shot, and even though he’s drunk as fuck he manages to hit the cue ball with a sharp crack that very quickly makes acquaintance with the side of dean’s head where he’s still laughing.

When the ball hits him he stumbles straight up in shock, yelling, “OW, holy _FUCK_ ,” loud enough to get some weird glances, and cas immediately drops his pool cool, stumbling forward to Dean, saying, “holy shit dean, I’m so sorry.” he rams his side into the corner of the table as he’s making his way around, and dean’s standing there with a hand to his head wondering if a sharply hit pool ball can cause brain damage, and they both probably look pathetic as all get out right now, one of them kneeling on the floor and hissing, the other clutching his head and swearing.

cas pulls himself unsteadily to his feet, swaying a bit before finally falling into Dean, using his shoulder to steady himself.

“ok,” he says, “ok ok, dean, let’s- let’s go to the bathroom we’ll- get a… get a look at it.”

they stumble as one entity to the bathroom, dean with a hand around cas’ waist and cas vehemently trying simultaneously run a hand over the growing goose egg on Dean’s temple and kiss it.

“wait wait wait,” dean says testily, fumbling with the bathroom door, yanking it open and dragging cas in behind him. It’s only a single bathroom, so at least they aren’t confined to a small stall for this. As soon as the door is shut behind him, dean turns and shoves cas against the back of the door, dragging Cas in by his lapels, kissing him sloppy and greedy.

“dean,” Cas slurs out when dean moves to his neck, mouth hot and wanting. “dean we should-” he breathes out harshly when Dean finds the sensitive spot just under his jaw, “your head-”

“M’fine,” dean mumbles into his skin, hands slipping under his shirt, “you’re so damn good at pool, even fuck drunk.” he runs a hand up the back of cas’ neck, tangling his fingers in cas’ hair, pulling just enough that cas groans, guttural, and dean feels the goosebumps erupt on his own arms telling him, yup, time to get really turned on. “it’s really hot.”

cas breathes out harshly as dean sucks tiny little bruises onto his collarbone, fitting his hands to the divots of Cas’ hips, his thumbs slotting perfectly along the harsh line they create on cas’ abdomen. dean rubs his thumbs excitedly along the jut there, spreading his hands so that they curl around cas’ lower back, his forefinger and pinky just brushing the top of cas’ ass through his jeans.

cas grabs Ddan’s face and pulls it eagerly back to his, teeth clashing and lips being bitten, and says in the in-between space, smirking, “I thought you’d like it.”   

“what can I say, you got me pegged,” dean grins.

cas kisses him again, then brings his hand back up to the side of Dean’s head.

“you’re sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly, with no heat.

dean stops too.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. “my head hurts a lot but I’m pretty sure I’ll live.”

cas nods studiously.

“okay,” he says neutrally, “Tten in that case…” this time it’s his turn to grab dean by the lapels, and he switches their positions, this time slamming dean against the door, all the while gently cradling his head to keep it from jarring too harshly. dean’s excuse is that he’s super drunk, but the gesture makes him well up regardless.

“I love you,” he mumbles into cas’ kiss, all the while fiddling with Cas’ fly.

“I love you as well, Dean,” cas says, amusement coloring his tone, tweaking a nipple through dean’s shirt, forcing him to hiss between his teeth.   

cas slides to his knees, because the general agreement is that dean’s knees are too shitty to slide anywhere that’s not cushioned or carpeted, so cas generally takes one for the team when giving blow jobs in seedy bar bathrooms. He drags his fingers down dean’s sides, hooking them into the waistband of Dean’s pants as he fumbles with his belt. Once he has it undone, cas unzips his fly, pulling dean out of his boxers, thick and flushed.

“didn’t take long, I see,” cas smirks, looking up at Dean from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll dick-slap you,” dean warns.

cas wraps a warm hand around dean’s dick, and dean jerks into it, breathing hard.

“ok ok,” he grumbles, waving vaguely, obviously trying not to sound near as turned on as he is, “take it as a compliment.”

cas idly sucks on the pad of his thumb as he grins up at dean.

“you really think me playing pool is that attractive?” he asks, gently running his wet thumb down Dean’s length. dean trembles, reaching down for something to hold onto and finds cas’ wild and wacky sexy drunk hair. he nods.

“was it all that hitting balls around?” cas asks, stone cold serious, and he leans forward so that dean can feel his breath right on his dick. dean whimpers.

“you’re so bad at innuendo when you’re drunk,” he manages to gasp out, tightening his grip on cas’ hair. cas just grins a shit-eating grin.

“I’m bad at innuendo when I’m sober as well,” he reminds dean, licking a stripe up dean’s dick so fast dean doesn’t even register it until a second later.

“ok you need to stop dicking around like right now.”

cas reaches around and grabs a handful of dean’s ass through his jeans, squeezing.

“you seem to be doing all the dicking around,” he says pointedly.

“ _Cas_ ,” dean groans, “I’m way too drunk for this.”

cas takes pity on him then, wrapping his lips along the head of dean’s dick, but still being enough of an ass to take his goddam time on the way down even though dean knows cas can swallow him like a fucking champ- they’ve had a lot of practice, after all.

“caaaaas,” dean whines, and cas does a thing with his tongue that blows almost every fuse in dean’s brain, and dean almost slumps against the wall, but cas holds him up. He pops off to look questioningly up at dean.

“sorry, were you saying something?” he asks innocently, and dean rolls his eyes and manhandles cas to his feet, pulling him into another bruising kiss that tastes like beer and himself. He fumbles with cas’ zipper, and cas eventually knocks his hands out of the way to undo it himself, because cas likes to pretend he’s in control every time the dicks come out, but he can be pretty fucking impatient about it if he decides things are taking too long.

when he finally succeeds in getting his own dick in order, Dean lifts cas’ hand to his mouth just as he places his own hand on cas’ cheek.

“Lube?” he asks, and cas shakes his head. dean didn’t bring any either, which he assumed, so they’re gonna do this the sexy way. dean presses his thumb to the corner of cas’ mouth and cas opens for him, immediately enveloping dean in wet heat, and damn it’s just a thumb, but it’s also cas’ mouth, and that mouth does things to him. cas laves his tongue around dean’s thumb, tracing it, while at the same time dean sucks one of cas’ fingers into his mouth, groaning around it. cas takes his free hand and holds Dean’s wrist tightly, giving him more freedom to switch between fingers. dean’s shuddering, cursing under his breath and around cas’ fingers. If he shoots his wad because cas sucks on his fingers too hard he knows he’s gonna sulk for a week and cas’ smugness is going to be completely insufferable. so he pulls his fingers from cas’ mouth with a slick noise that makes his dick jump, deems them spit-covered enough, and lines up his and cas’ cocks, starting to jack them together.

“Ffffffuck, Dean,” cas breathes heavily, pulling his own fingers out of Dean’s mouth, running the wet pad of his thumb across Dean’s lips. “dean, _fuck_.” he surges forward to kiss him, awkwardly crunching dean’s currently jerking hand between them, but dean can hardly complain at the sudden lack of space between their torsos. With one hand on cas’ cheek and the other working them both at the new angle, dean finds space to thrust his tongue into cas’ mouth, and cas reciprocates eagerly, giving just as good as he gets. cas leaves one hand on dean’s ass as he presses his other alongside the one dean’s using to jack them with, and they continue together, mouths locked and hands joined and even the tips of their shoes just barely touching.

dean comes first with a laugh when he realizes he never even bothered to unbutton his shirt, and sags back against the wall, allowing cas to hold him up as he finishes him off as well.

“my hand is cramping,” dean complains as cas breathes wetly into his neck.

“I just sucked your dick in a bar bathroom,” cas reminds him, and yeah, dean can’t really argue with that logic. he sucks (ha) it up, and works cas until he finally shudders, getting his own shirt covered in jizz, and yeah, the two of them look like an absolute hot mess right now and there is not a single person in that bar who isn’t going to know what they just did, but dean just grins a dopey grin, nuzzling into hair that curls just behind cas’ ear.

“I can’t believe you just sucked my dick in a dirty bar bathroom,” dean mumbles, right beside his ear, “that is so depraved.”

“more depraved than walking out that door covered in dried semen?”

“Ew. but also maybe not.” a sudden thought occurs to dean, and he grins. “but at least everyone’s gonna know I just got fucked by the hottest pool player in the bar.”

cas grins mischievously, pressing a kiss to dean’s jaw.

“eight ball, corner pocket,” he smirks.


End file.
